


Like Spinning Plates

by MissKierie



Series: Muse and the Skeleton [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Anal, Awkwardness, Blood, Breastfeeding, Childbirth, Daddy Kink, Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), F/M, Fontcest, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gore, Hybrids, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Lactation, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Timelines, Oral Sex, Other, Outdoor Sex, POV Multiple, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Public Sex, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader has a vagina, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Silly, Skeletons, Soul Bond, Soul Sex, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKierie/pseuds/MissKierie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You met Sans in the snow. You fucked him in the snow. And kept fucking him until you were pregnant. At the end of your journey through the Underground, you were forced to make a choice: Fight, Act, or Spare.</p><p>Well. You thought you made a choice. The truth is, in a universe where the Many-Worlds Theory is law, you didn't make a choice. Because everything that can possibly happen is guaranteed to happen.</p><p>And ooh, fuck... There sure are a lot of things happening to you now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> W E L C O M E B A C K .
> 
> A few disclaimers: Although this is a direct continuation of [Sweetheart, Sugartits, I just hit the Jackpot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5915449/chapters/13617337), it is to be considered a separate work. I wanted the reader's backstory and the baby's appearance to be left to interpretation in that story. In this story, I will have to elaborate on those. So. Just something to keep in mind.
> 
> The capitalization (or lack thereof) is deliberate.
> 
> Enjoy, you dirty sinners~
> 
>  
> 
> [Underfell Sans](http://kierie.tumblr.com/post/141044576090)
> 
>  
> 
> [His theme](http://teffyjeffy.tumblr.com/post/140490031101)

  
**Timeline 63c** \- The one where he killed you

[♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpTQC3xBQfE)

mmm. it smells like blood.

you did it, you did it, you fucking did it. you killed them. 

nothing happened immediately. aren’t sure why you were expecting something to. like somehow, the timeline would shift and you’d be back in your original timeline. without this manic mess of a brain. with dull teeth and blue magic. with your papyrus…

but nah. nothing happened. (your name)’s blood just pooled around their head, soaking into their hair, filling the cracks in the marble floor. their skin is starting to lose color. guess you’ll just have to try using your machine again.

you should get the fuck outta here. but you don’t. you just sit with them for a while. thinking about them. about god and how you were just fucking praying a few minutes ago. asking someone to let you forget this shit. mmm. you take that back, cuz really, you deserve to remember this. it’s the least you can do for them.

… wait a fucking second. why is their stomach still bloated? you got all your magic back. why is… it still glowing red…?

…

you _gotta_ be kidding me. 

there’s a noticeable bulge on the inside of their stomach. another one. the light intensifies. he’s… he’s still alive? oh, fuck this. just leave, sans, bail. what the fuck would you even do for him? leave, leave, he’ll die eventually. he’s better off dead than with you, leave.

he wants to come out. your baby calls out to you. and your brain just shuts off. instincts take over. he’s yours. he’s _yours_. you created him, this is all your fault. you have to save him. you take off your jacket and hike up their red dress. better be careful. 

wince as your distal phalanges puncture skin. slowly peel away layer after layer of bloody, dead flesh. his magic is getting brighter. run a claw across the front of their uterus and it splits open, magic swirling into the air with his screaming. fluid pours out and you find a tiny limb in the mess. inch to his abdomen and pull. he kinda.. _pops_ out. butt first, head last, gotta make sure to hold his skull so it doesn’t flop around. he’s noisy, sounding more like a screeching owl than a human baby. wrap him up in your jacket, cradle him, and actually take a good look at your newborn.

he’s… ugly as fuck. **gross.**

and noisy. poke a bloody finger at his mouth until he accepts it. suckles on it and seems content with that for now. he doesn’t have any teeth; his weird, malleable gums pull and rub against your digit. ugh, he’s so weird… an amalgamation of magic, bone, and flesh. parts of him transparent, parts full of pumping blood, parts bare and hollow. you imagined him to look like his mother. but nah. he looks like both of you, fused together like in some Langelaan-esque teleporting accident.

red light sparks in the hollow eye sockets of his face. blackness pools like pupils and sparkles in the illumination of a lightning strike from the storm outside. with that look alone, he tells you he loves you. his ectoplasmic tongue pushes against your finger until it’s forced out. he squirms and cries out. he's hungry and wants his mother.

what the fuck… what in the fuck are you supposed to do _now?_

 

****

**Timeline 63a** \- The one where you killed him

It hurts. It hurts **so bad**. All you can do is scream and curl into yourself as a strong contraction shakes your core. Leaning against a tree, sweaty, flushed, legs stained and sticky with clear liquid from your water breaking. You wish Sans was here.

The contraction fades enough for you to take a few deep breaths. The baby’s coming, he’s coming right now. You have to keep going, you have to find help. The reality that you might have to give birth alone on the forest floor hits you and that makes you want to give up. Nope! Nope nope! Keep going. That’s all you’ve ever been good at and you sure as hell aren’t going to stop now.

Everything fucking hurts. As you hobble along, you can feel your body stretch and shift to prepare for delivery. Even your joints are looser, adding to the clumsiness that came with your panicked mental state. Another contraction, so strong that you feel it in your thighs. GOD. **THIS SUCKS!** This is the worst thing ever!!!

You have no idea how much time has passed or how far you’ve walked. Scream and grunt and breathe and walk until you finally have to stop. Fall to your knees and squat there with the damp leafs, wave after wave of contraction beating you into the ground. There’s sudden pressure and it feels like you need to take a really big shit. You discarded your panties long ago, and reach to feel what’s happening between your legs. There’s blood, pressure, your vulva bulging, so ready to get this thing out of you. The pain, the pain, it hurts so bad, this is the most real pain you’ve ever experienced. 

Somewhere between contractions, you register human voices. They say things like ‘oh my god,’ ‘we’ll help,’ and ‘what happened.’ Your head is pounding, but you manage to register three female humans, who appear to be hikers, two of them removing their large backpacks to take out water and blankets. 

One tried to get you to lay on your back; you just shoved at her, then immediately gripped her shoulder as another wave rocked you. You cried for them to stop when they started to remove Sans’s jacket, refusing to take it off despite how sweaty you were. They pulled your dress out of the way and put a blanket between your legs. They asked you what your name was and they gave theirs. Between contractions, you laughed and apologized for bloodying their belongings. 

No one knew what they were doing but they were there and you were as grateful as you possibly could be. Thankfully, your body knew what to do, and at a certain point, you pushed. It burned. And it hurt. More than anything. But you did it. Again and again. Until the head popped out. You were too engulfed in pain and hormones to register the magic that was expelled along with his head. Too distracted to see the shock on the women’s faces. Finally, the rest of him came tumbling out, blood, fluid, and red magic along with.

“Oh my god,” “What is…” “What the _fuck!?_ ”

You crumble forward, butting them all out of the way, stroking and grasping the baby until he coughs, gasps, then lets out an earsplitting wail.

“(your name), we have to—“ “ **NOO!!!** ” you scream, curling your arms until your newborn nestles between your breasts, “ **don’t look at him! He’s MINE!!**” 

 

****

**Timeline 63b** \- The one where you’re together

Sans. (your name). Sans, Sans! (your name). Saaaaans~ _mmm?_ yea, sweetheart?

“We can’t keep doing this,” you say out loud, needing to put some semblance of space between you. Bent over on your knees, Sans behind you, his twitching cock now stationary inside your pussy. Look over your shoulder to see the cliff you emerged from in the distance. You’ve walked maybe, what, a mile? Two? Ugh.

The splintering of your souls gave Sans all his magic back. Well, more like he’s now sharing it with you rather than giving it away. That stirred all kinds of things inside him. Being him looking at you while being you looking at him didn’t help things either. 

You felt so good around him. As a monster, fucking a human felt so damn good. Your body was real, physical, and _alive_. You could feel the blood pumping, surging through the swollen tissue of your cunt. The way your textured skin grazed your smooth bones, setting the magic alight in both of you, hnng… The two of you immediately knew how much you wanted each other and it was so easy to just. Let things happen. 

“Sans,” you repeat, voice trained with desire, “after this,” pant pant, “we HAVE to stop.”

“mmm, why,” he mumbles into your spine, teeth nuzzling the bare skin between shoulder blades, “wuz tha rush?”

“The rush—“ have to moan when he starts thrusting again, slowly, “is that I don’t want to push this baby out in the middle of no where.”

Your mind goes to Alphys while his goes to other humans and how they’ll most definitely either run or try to kill him. He has the notion of slaughtering every human who tries to fuck with you, which you immediately scold him for. No, Sans. No killing. fiiiine.

“i could deliver him,” he offers.

Have to giggle at that, “god, I **do not** want to have this conversation with your dick still inside me.”

“well,” he breathes, the pace of his pelvis quickening, “then lez get this _over with._ ”

You’ve climaxed so many times already, you probably can’t manage another one. But experiencing an orgasm through Sans’s body is more than enough to get you off. Frenzied dirty talks teems through his brain: ya like that, (your name)? ya want more of this cock? Yes, Daddy. iz yours baby, all yours. an’ this sweet lil cunt is mine. yer mine, ferever, all mine.

A few more minutes, fucking you harder and harder, so overwrought and desperate, he needs you he needs you, fuck, (your name)!! Vision clouds with red as he climaxes, and you experience it through Sans, shooting a heavy load of monster seed inside you while feeling your body accept it happily. His head swims and swirls with thoughts of you, you you, only you, he’s so in love with you. The cum is hot and thick, tingling your tunnel, being absorbed into your body rather than disappearing along with his red dick.

“there,” he huffs, sitting back on his knees, yanking his shorts up, and reaching into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. When he opens it and sees there’s only one left, he sighs and puts it back. gotta save it for an emergency. 

You take your time standing up, Sans helping you at a point, your belly is so huge. Straighten your torn dress. Lean against him as you brush off dirt and leafs that stuck to your legs. He gave you his socks and shoes, even though they were too big. Even put them on for you since you can’t reach your toes anymore. You had to resist playing with the phalanges of his feet and putting them in your mouth when you saw them. He shoved one in your face and you tried to pretend like you hated it, for no real reason other than pride, since he could feel what you were really thinking about. 

He wipes off some sweat from your face with the sleeve of his jacket and makes eye contact. There’s so much affection and want and— no, not again. Look away and take his hand, directing him to walk along side you as you continue heading in the direction of that large city. 

“ya remember that imma skeleton, right?”

“ _Yes_ ,” you sneer in response.

“so, i can’t just waltz into that human city.”

“Yes, I _know_ that,” you reply, “we’re going to get you some pants first.” With his legs concealed, hands in his pockets, hood pulled up, he’ll look like a human. A creepy, hunched, smelly human. But a human nonetheless!

“i hate pants,” he grumbles.

“I know, sweetie,” you say bitingly while rubbing your stomach with your other hand, “think you can bear it for me and Junior?” 

“gene,” he corrects, “i wuz… uh, th-thinkin’ of namin’ him gene.”

That makes you beam, your face literally brightening up with magic, “cute. Is that a font?” Apparently, font names run in the family, if his father being named Wing Dings is anything to go by.

“yea; geneva.”

That’s a city in Switzerland, headquarters of the United Nations. A neutral place. Feels appropriate for a baby created from two separate, warring species. “What’s it look like?”

“similar to helvetica. boring, straight-forward, with a lil’ curve here n’ there.”

“You think our son is boring?”

“ya ever actually listened ta him? he’s boring as fuck.”

“Sans, he’s _literally_ a fetus.”

The skeleton stops dead in his tracks and you do the same. He heard something. Listen closely… human voices. Three of them. All female. Approaching. Sans pulls his hood up and nudges at you with his elbow. 

Welp. Guess you’ll go talk to them. In this torn prom dress, dirty red sneakers and mustard socks. Makeup still pristine. Reeking of sex and sweat. Pregnant as fuck. 

Let’s do this. It can’t be any worse than what you went through in the Underground.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully timeline 63b won't be too confusing for people. Sans and the reader are one so they can just like, communicate by thinking. this timeline will mostly be from the perspective of the reader and narrator, but Sans will pop in occasionally. 
> 
> i'm _trying_ to draw the baby but... it's a daunting project haha. you'll see him in a full color drawing soon.
> 
> i have some idea where this story will go but.. it's going to lack the structure i had in the last one. and there might be long pauses between chapters. so. bear with me, please.
> 
> thank you for coming back <3 and for reading my writing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aah the response to this has been great! thank you everyone for reading : )

  
**63b** \- The one where you’re together

Yeah, no. This is **worse.** This is human interaction. _Awkward_ human interaction.

As you trudged through the brush towards the three women, they looked at you like you were a ghost. One of those scary ghosts from a Japanese horror film. You waved stupidly and said, “hi!” As soon as they recognized that you were not only real, but also extremely pregnant and fatigued, they all rushed to your side. 

You came up with a lie that you were at a wedding, which is why you were so dressed up in the middle of no where. You were attacked by a bear and managed to get away. They panicked and insisted on driving you to the nearest hospital, but you said you were totally fine, and that all you needed was a pair of pants and some water. They gave you an entire change of clothes and as many bottles of water as you could hold, which was two. 

Take one step back the way you came and the woman in gray follows. “Wait,” she mumbles, “you’re just going to walk back alone? We’ll take you.”

Her forearm brushes yours and you have to shudder; the first human touch you’ve felt in who knows how long. She’s soft and smells of sweat and flowery deodorant. Swallow the urge to break down and collapse in her arms. Don’t. You have Sans now. He’s your responsibility. Breathe through it.

“Ah, I’m not alone,” you reassure her, “my, uh, friend is over there.” Nod vaguely in the direction where Sans is hidden. “He didn’t come cause, um, he was, he had to use the bathroom.”

The women’s doubt and confusion is palpable. Gotta do something to convince them to let you go. “Sa-Stan!?” you call out, changing his name midway, “are you done yet? I found some nice hiker ladies!” 

_Please_ , respond, you fucking skeleton, get us out of this.

“hey, cupcake,” he rumbles in your fucking ear, suddenly standing right next to you— **AHHH** , the water bottles go flying as you jolt away from him with a scream. The women seem equally alarmed, but he just chuckles as you suck in air and glower at him. 

He looks even stupider than he did before: gym shorts pulled down enough to conceal his feet and legs, looking like a try-hard gangster. “yea, dun’ worry ‘bout us,” pulls one hand from his pocket to pat your lower back, out of eyesight of the other humans, “our car’s nearby. momma here iz just shy; don’t wanna stroll up ta tha ER like this.” Sans directs at your torn gown, “shame, it wuzza stunnin’ dress. you chicks should bail, though. dunno if that bear iz still around.”

 _Chicks_ , you repeat bitterly to yourself. Sans has a few images of what they might look like naked, ugh. Scurry to pick up the bottles you dropped as you spout your goodbyes, “well, thanks guys, this has been a big help! Good luck with, uh, everything.”

“Wait!” the one in blue shouts, reaching forward, grabbing Sans’s shoulder, oh no, “you forgot the—“ The woman in gray screams the moment Sans’s hood falls from the light tug on his shoulder. Yup, there he is, just a skull.

Familiar blackness as Sans stops the flow of time momentarily. It’s the first time he’s done this since you splintered and you can see everything through his eyes: the world in black and white, edges of everything blurred into pixels. He moves with impossible speed, striking each woman on the head carefully. 

Then it’s gone, you choke in air and almost fall backwards, Sans catching you by the forearms. All three of them are on the ground, still breathing, unconscious.

“ **SANS!!!** ” you shout, jerking away from him, “god damnit, what did I say!?”

“ _what?_ ” he sneers, reaching to throw his hood back up, “i didn’t _kill_ anyone.”

“They were helping us!! You didn’t have to show up so close!”

“but yer so _cute_ when yer startled,” he purrs, leaning forward to nuzzle teeth against your cheek.

“You’re terrible,” you say with absolute sincerity, reaching to pull his wrists away when he cups both of your swollen breasts.

“hnnaaahahah,” he laughs,”i know, right?” Gentle squeeze, bit of fluid leaving your nipple to join the sweat and saliva that’s already been absorbed into your dress.

“Nnno,” you whine, disgusted with yourself for feeling aroused in this moment, “we have to get moving, and just hope nothing happens to them.” All he has to do is touch you, look at you, exist, and you want him. It’s **not fair.** Pull yourself away and crouch to open up one of the hiker’s packs, looking for gloves. Find a pair of leather biking gloves, which he enthusiastically puts on. That, along with a pair of sweatpants that are way too big, and some socks and sandals that are too small. God, he looks ridiculous… but at least he looks reasonably human.

Pull off the dress and dump it on the ground, enthralled that you’ll never have to wear it again. Squeeze into the t-shirt and yoga pants they offered. Sans growls hungrily and compliments you on how good your ass looks in them. Tell the monster to contain himself and he responds by running a magic tongue across his lower teeth.

[♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pB0M0bNy_yw)

You both know what to do next. You drove to Mt. Ebott, leaving your keys and belongings inside, intending to never see them again. Hopefully it will still be there. On the way, Sans grumbled about you calling him your friend, rather than a husband or even boyfriend, which you couldn’t believe; why did he care about something so minuscule? You poked fun at him for it, then he bashfully said you were much more than a friend to him. He wanted you to be his lifetime partner. You told him you felt the same and it took everything in your power not to make love to him right then and there.

The two of you walk and circle around to the edge of the dirt road where you parked, the morning sun reflecting off the metal frame. There she is, your car, windows rolled down, looking like she’s been there for over a year. Vines twine around her interior, dead leafs pile on floor, a few rabbits make a run for it when you open the front door.

Finally, you ask it, “Sans… how long was I in the Underground?”

He hesitates. You can’t even see the answer in his mind. 

“uh, ‘bout six months?”

** W H A T ? ! **

  
**63a** \- The one where you killed him

Your son didn’t have an umbilical cord and no placenta followed his delivery. So overwhelmed from hormones and fear, you barely registered one woman running off screaming and another going after her. The third woman, in red, held your arm away so she could check the newborn out. He screeched and kicked against your chest, magic swirling around his mouth. She was speechless.

Cradling him, you try to get up. Shoving the woman away, so weak, fall to one knee. No, no, you **have to** get away, they’ll take him from you, they’ll kill him. Somehow, you manage to sprint away before she can do anything, in no particular direction, baby screaming and wailing as he’s jostled around. 

It doesn’t last very long. You collapse, making sure to keep your baby unharmed, arms outstretched, holding the tiny creature before all strength leaves your body. Vision fading, exhaustion consuming, crying. Sans, I’m sorry, Sans. Our baby, _Sans…_

You lose consciousness.

  
**63c** \- The one where he killed you

no one can see you like this. they’ll take him away and you’ll never see him again. not geneva, not your baby, he’s _yours_. duck behind corners, take as many shortcuts as you can, cover his mouth any time he makes a loud sound. he scratches at you with sharp, mini fingernails until he eventually gives up and falls asleep.

yea, great, he falls asleep one shortcut away from snowdin. thanks, fuckhead. chuckle to yourself for calling your own baby a fuckhead. he’s looks more like a pinhead or jellybrain. sometimes the ectoplasm behind his skin moves in such a way that flesh is lost, so, he’s a bonehead too. heh.

you know it’s going to happen, but it still startles you when papyrus opens the front door as you reach for the handle. 

“WELCOME HOME,” he booms, stepping aside to let you inside. kick the door closed behind you and just look at your bro. legs start to quiver, tears welling. he sighs, taking the baby from your lifeless arms. “YES YES, I KNOW,” he cradles your son in one gloved hand, patting your shoulder with the other, “THAT MUST HAVE BEEN VERY HARD ON YOU. BUT YOU DID WELL!” 

breath hitches in your throat when he lets the bloodied jacket fall to the floor, holding the infant out like he’s some kinda delicate piece of art. yea, he **really is** ugly. you expect papyrus to sneer or laugh, but he doesn’t. he just waves a hand at you, saying, “YOU STINK. GO SHOWER, BROTHER. RELAX FOR A BIT. I’LL TAKE CARE OF THE LITTLE _THING._ ”

papyrus brings gene close to his face. the baby flails his arms until he touches pap’s skull, tiny fingers curling around one tusk. he makes a soft sound. your bro smiles. **ok.** ok… they’ll be fine.

do as your brother says, just dropping your clothes wherever on the way to the bathroom. the sound of the water turning on reminds you of your last night with (your name). how they messed with the faucet until the temperature was just right, despite being high as fuck. they were so happy to be with you. 

…

you sit under the stream of water and curl into yourself, sobbing, watching the blood wash off your bones and go down the drain. if you died right now, or if the universe just stopped existing, that would be ok. but in reality, god could never be so merciful.

aren’t sure how long you stayed like that. when the water lost all warmth, you turned it off. but you still sat there. mmm. eventually, you got up and walked to your bedroom, still dripping wet and cold. throw whatever on, you don’t care. your mattress still smells like their cum, just a little bit. 

ok, back to… whatever the fuck is going on. papyrus is on the couch, in his pajamas, staring at your son, clean and fully clothed, as he suckles at a bottle. where in the fuck…

“wuzzat,” you ask, pointing at the bottle and taking a seat next to him.

“IT’S MILK,” he answers, “YELLOW BITCH MADE IT.” he cackles at your disgusted response, clarifying, “NOT FROM HER BODY, SILLY!! IN HER LAB.”

oh, yea, course… seems he likes it. he’s drinking it pretty quickly.

paps pulls the bottle away and pats gene’s back until he burps. there’s silence. you know what he wants, so you just give it to him. retrieve the glass container from your inventory and set it on the carpet. (your name)’s purple soul bounces and spins slowly. (your name)…

“VERY GOOD,” papyrus says, resting his bare toes against the glass as if to inspect it, then propping his feet on it. “WHEN DO YOU PLAN ON LEAVING?”

“ _hey,_ ” you hiss, trying to maintain a stern expression, “ya messed with tha deal by helpin’ em escape. i deserve further compensation.”

“ _OH?_ ”

“i’m takin’ my son with.”


	3. Chapter 3

  
**63a** \- The one where you killed him

It smells like… you don’t know how to describe this smell. It’s humid, meaty, and a bit earthy. Everything hurts, fucking _everything_ , your crotch especially. And for the first time in a long time, you need to pee.

**OH. YOUR BABY.**

You panic momentarily until you feel something warm and heavy on your breast, latching on, suckling at a bare nipple. Ahh… he’s here. With you, in the back of this.. pickup truck? Wrapped in blankets and a sleeping bag, only the moon and a nearby crackling fire providing illumination. Gentle, female voices in the background. 

They didn’t turn you in. You’re still in the forest. Thank fuck.

[♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEwzPqY7LrA)

Reach and cup your baby’s head in your hand. He’s small and his skin feels almost bloated. He makes a soft sound, his tiny body glowing with a red hue at your touch. Pull away the covers and take a good look at your newborn. He doesn’t look like Sans, which is what you were expecting. No, he looks like both of you. Skin, soft, mostly transparent, the same color as yours where it isn’t. The bulging skin is from his magic moving beneath it. 

He opens his eyes, the little red flecks almost sparkling when they look at you. He _loves_ you, he’s _so_ happy, he’s so happy to finally see what you look like, to touch you. Small fingers uncurl and grasp lightly at your skin. Immediately, you start to sob. He’s so beautiful, he’s everything and nothing you expected. 

“(your name)?” one of the three women calls out, “are you awake?”

Your baby chomps his gums around your swollen nipple. Hmm. What are you going to name him?

  
**63b** \- The one where you’re together

Sans is under you, pressed up against the side door of you car as you pin him there by the collar of his jacket. “What do you mean **six months?!** ” you shout, hands starting to shake as the reality of everything that can change in half a year starts to sink in. Six months! How in the fuck was that six months? It felt like a month, at most. “How is that even possible??”

He stutters and cradles your stomach so it isn’t compressed by his lower ribs. “uh, well—“ Knowing how angry and scared you are, he clears his throat and says softly, “ya were in tha ruins fer ‘bout a month, then my workshop fer a week… and after, uh…” You both have flashbacks of what happened in Undyne’s house. “you were in a coma fer almost five months.”

… No wonder your stomach was so big by the time you woke up. He has an image of your unconscious body naked beneath him. Twist up your face, spit landing on his face as you seethe. “Sans… did you?” Rape me. Did you rape me when I was in a coma after being raped by you and your brother?

The nervous skeleton starts to perspire even more, leaning away, not even making eye contact. “what?! no, i’m not _that_ messed up. i just… jacked off into yer pussy.”

“ **EXCUSE ME?** ”

“i-i had to! gene needed my m-magic, i don’t have ‘nuff determination to do it any other wuh-way.”

A painful uterine contraction makes you curl into yourself. Release him with a harsh shove and sit on the hood of your car.

“i’m sorry, (your name).” And he means it, you know he does. He wants to make it up to you somehow, to make up for all the times he didn’t take care of you when he should have. 

You think about your undergrowth of a car and he gets to work immediately. Yanking out vines, kicking away leafs, setting cobwebs aflame with carefully controlled fire magic. He likes cars and he comments on a few things as he goes: the radio, the material of the interior, all the human ingenuity that exists in such an ordinary thing. Well, ordinary to most humans at least. He really starts gushing when he opens the hood, shoving his head in and prodding around the engine as he mumbles to himself. 

When he comes back out, he’s covered in oil and dust. You giggle at his grubby state and reach to wipe off the side of his skull. He _looks at you_. And the inevitable process starts again. You’re going to fuck.

The start is simple. He takes off his jacket and biker gloves so he can feel you. There are fingers in your hair and sharp teeth pressing lightly against your lips. You feed off each others energy, multiplying arousal tenfold by the time his tongue enters your mouth. It curls and flicks with yours, the kiss getting more frantic as time flies by.

Before you know it, you’re lying on your back on the hood of the car, head dangling off the edge, Sans standing next to you, his cock sliding down your throat. You groan and gurgle, reaching around your stomach to touch between your legs as he facefucks you. Saliva drips down your face and you do your best to take his entire length. So thick and warm… 

When he finishes, you don’t even taste it; the cum shoots down your throat, directly into your stomach. You giggle and slurp up the spit when he pulls out, thanking him for the hot meal. He licks your face clean before coming around to kneel on the car so he can get his face between you legs. Yanks your yoga pants down to your knees and ducks his head under them. You’re almost grateful you can’t see his face with how big your stomach is, you feel like a complete mess.

“yer really swollen down here,” he comments, breath blasting your crotch as his fingers pull your lips open.

“Well, duh. I’m probably pretty wet too.”

“ya are… but this iz different. yer purple.” Purple? You can see your privates through his eyes: oh, it is swollen and discolored. A pregnancy side effect? He glides the tip of his tongue between your folds and asks, “howzat feel?”

It feels good, if a bit too hot. You’re more sensitive than you were before. “It’s nice… think you could just like… massage me for a bit?” 

He responds with a chuckle, “yea, i think i can probably manage that.”

You close your eyes and breathe in the fresh air as he takes his time indulging your vulva. You never get close to orgasm, but that’s okay. Just this is nice. He rolls your labia between his fingers as his tongue pushes inside to gather wetness and coat your folds with it. Presses his closed teeth against you and hums, sending gentle vibrations through you. 

When you open your eyes, it’s completely dark. An entire day has passed and all you’ve done is had sex and found your car. Sans is mostly asleep between your legs, and you nudge him with your calf. 

“Hey, get up. We should get going.”

“mmmnnnnnnnn,” he rumbles sleepily, “where’r we goin’?”

“… Home.”

  
**63c** \- The one where he killed you

papyrus gives you a little sneer and just that is enough to make your soul start pounding. not now, sans… just breathe. you wrap your willpower around that anxiety and crush it.

“NO. ME KEEPING HIM WAS INTEGRAL TO MY COOPERATION. WHICH, FOR THE MOST PART, I FULFILLED.”

“th-the most part? ya deliberately went _against_ it.” you want to grab your son from his arms but you don’t. you couldn’t. “besides, y-yer goin’ ta tha surface. just impregnate a bunch of humans up there. fuck enough of em and one’s bound ta get p-pregnant.”

your bro sighs, his big toe wiggling as he thinks. the baby burps again, a bit of milk coming up along with it. you expect paps to be disgusted, but he actually wipes it off with the sleeve of his pjs. whoa. “DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT YOU TAKING HIM WOULD BE A GOOD THING? YOU COULDN’T TAKE CARE OF THE HUMAN AND YOU CERTAINLY CAN’T TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. THIS IS A BABY, SANS.”

… 

he’s right. what happens the next time you have a panic attack? you dunno. are you strong enough to push everything else aside to be the father gene needs? no. no, you aren’t.

the two of you sit there in silence for a while. gene falls asleep. you take a moment to really look at your brother. he’s so pointy in this timeline… so red. there’s no real warmth in those sockets. fuck, after everything he’s done to you… and everything you’ve…

he gives you a sideways glance. you gotta get the fuck outta here.

limbs frozen with anxiety, you jolt off the couch awkwardly, shaking your hands as you slip your feet into pap’s burgundy colored slippers. he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re taking them.

“GOODBYE, BROTHER,” he says when you reach the door, “I LOVE YOU.”

so many emotions are bubbling, choking you up, holding you back. fuck it, fuck all of it. push the door open. it’s cold outside. the key to your workshop slips from your fingers and falls in the snow. dig it out and shove it in the lock. go inside. it’s dark; flip the switch and fluorescent lights turn on. your machine in the corner rumbles as electricity surges into it. 

it still smells like (your name) in here. they were here for over a week. bits of their dried blood still streak the floor. the white sheets they slept in are still balled up next to the wall. you wanna collapse in them and cry for a bit. but if you stop now, you might not be able to keep going. 

yank the latch on your machine, the seal breaking, making the sound of suction popping as the hatch opens. step inside. everything is ready to go. you rewrote the code earlier to compensate for (your name) being dead. if they were the bug, this timeline should be uncorrupted. and you can reset it. you hope.

you’ve done this so many times, it’s reflexive now. flip the switches, write up the introductory line to open the continuum, pinky finger hovers over the enter key. you’ll go back. no more anxiety, no sharp teeth, no underfell. back to your frisk. your papyrus. your life…

erase it all. wipe this timeline from existence. wipe these memories. you’re a god right now. everything at the will of your single finger. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t thrill you. the key makes a quiet click as you press it down. pull it back, ạ̶̡͉̣͙́nͪ͛́̽͡ͅd̵̫̳̜̮̼͑͂̐͢-̱̤ͪ̈́̏ͩ̉̌ͬ-̷̡͈͉̈́͐ͦ͟ ̢̱̫͍̞̚͟ͅ■■̗̤͖͙́■̬̻̰͈̳■͏̠͍̬̩̻̻̯͖̻■͝҉͏͈̖͍͓̹͕ͅ■̵̴̻̭ͅ■̣̟̠̗̠̯̫ͅ■̦̗̥̥̱͈̝̹͡■̷̯̳͎̹̤̘̠͍͟■̝̩̜̗̩͢͟■̶͖̲͟͟ͅ■̧͈̱̣̤͇͇̤̺̕͠■̶͔̬̭̠͇■̤̖̦̞̣■̯̱͝͠■͎̼̫̼̣͖͈͢■̢̳̟̗̝͝■͚̩͍̼■̹̬͎͇̤͟■̴̟͇̦͎͡ͅͅ■̕͏̞̠̪■̛͕͙̮̟̯■̦̝͚̦■̨̠͍̣■͖͙̹̫͇̲͓̻͇͢͞■̵̖̹̳͜■̵̺̥■̢̜̹̝͓͕̦■̖̻̙̞̙̬̖■̸͞͏̳͈͚̖■̗͈̮■̸̧̮̜̩͘ͅ■̨͖̤̺̥͚͖̺̰̀ͅ■̧͖̰̪̫̪̖͈■҉̯̻̳̬■̨͈̳͟■■■■̴̊̄ͫͪͯ̓ͪ̋҉̮̹■͍͕̟̳̼̐͌̊̆̿■̱͇̦̼͖͉̩͍͐͂ͪ̀͋ͅ■̗̠̺̳̜̐͐̒̎ͣͮ■̨̻̗̞̺̱͙̞̾ͮ̂̍ͯͣ̚■̶̢̺̠̦͒̅̄ͬ■̘̥̹̦̰̟̫̈́́̏ͯ̓͆ͤ̀ͅͅ■̷̞̪͇̭ͦ̚͞■̴̡̱̭̗̙͖͎̾■͉͖̻̻̳͙ͥ̾̈́■̝̰̼̒̆ͫ̎͡■̅̋͌́ͭͥ̔̅͡҉̲̯̥̺̠͖■̴̾̽̀҉̠̜̦̭̗̺ͅ■͙̯͙̭̾ͨͣͮ■̶̥̞̯͔̘͔̣̞̉̅̌̆ͤ̋̇̐̕͞■̩̩̘̼̠̗̥̝ͭ̓͑̎ͦͧ͛̆ͯ̀■̐ͯͨͤͪ́̏̍̚͡͏̥̜̪̭͇̖͡■ͭ̒͋̽͒͏̷̝͖̙̠͕̻■̆͊̈̄ͭ̐́͏͕̝̞̳́■̴̧͍̠̥̞̞̍͐͐̾■̹̰̻̣̼̄̃̏͋̅̀̓̅■̤͌̊ͨ̒ͫ̓͌̋́͘͜■͓̪̜̟̹͖̹ͨ̏͒̃ͅ■͎̜̫̝̅̽̄̒͆ͤͨ͜͜■■■͔̹̏■̶̪̘̘͕͐͗̎ͮ̔ͬͫ■̮̻̺͖͙̬̺̦̮ͯͮͨ͂̿̚͘͢■͔͍̯͔̫͇̰͕̍͒̀■■■̜̤̗̖̱̝̜ͭ͟■̸̴̣̟̗̞̜̒͜■̵̡̆ͭ҉̞̲ͅ■̢͈͙̙̪͚̎ͬ̓̈̒͑͗■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■□■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■□□■■■■□■□■□□□□□□□□□□■□□□□□□□□□□□□□□■□□□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□………………… ……………………  
……… ………  
… ..  
.

.

 

.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *grumble grumble* i don't like this chapter. it took me a long time to write for no real reason. plot is hard. i hope you enjoy it. even a little bit.
> 
>  
> 
> [oh! and i drew gene!](https://kierie.tumblr.com/post/150467492210/welp-there-he-is-my-first-and-only-undertale-oc)
> 
> edit: idk how to get wingdings to work with html. the capitalized distorted text in this is meant to be wingdings.

****

**63c** \- The one where he killed you

[♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFDrpT1tq-s)

 

 

.̸͑̿͋̚ͅ

 

 

.

 

 

.

reality starts repixelating back into existence. slowly. piece by piece. you regain control. no. your brain is an anxiety raddled mess. your phalanges are sharp. clamp your teeth together and THEY’RE FUCKING STILL SHARP. **NOOO!!!**

 **NONOFUCKGODFUCKINGDAMNITAFTERALLTHATAFTEREVERYTHINGNONONOyoufuckingkilledthemsanstheyregoneforeverforfuckingNOTHINGNOOONONONO—** fists pound into the keyboard, rattling the entire machine, wires snapping, papers flying. you accidentally hit the ḙ̜̀͠ͅṋ̹̰̠̻̰̝̖t̸̠̮̣̝͙͈e̸͔͔͚̫̺̻ͅr̲͙̝͕͍͘ ̧̙̖͡ḱ̢̟̖̝̫̤ḛ̝̥̙y̴̛͇͇.̸̡̲̻̮̹̪

 

(̲̤̲̥̲̱̱ͤ̽̅͆̿͡S͖̼̙͈̠̞ͬ͋ͭ́̋́C̬͎͓̭͙͌̍ͬ͋͂Ị̛̔͂̔͐E̠̖͍̭ͩͩ̾ͅͅͅN͈̯͐ͩ̈̿ͤͧ̚C̫̘̖̪̲̠̳̆͗̽̓̈͒E̹͎̝̼̟̊͌͗ͦͫ̑͟,̱̟͈̝̲̏̄͠ ͑ͮ͌͏Ȋ͎̝͖͕̩͔̇̈Sͣ͊̔̆ͥ ̠̳͉̲͚̩͆̋ͧ́ͅP̞͈̬̠͘ͅU̺̦̪͚͖R͎̫̫̜̲̮̥̎͂͐Sͫ́̀̊͐̽҉̭͕͚̫Ü̃͠E̺̦̓̂ͪ͞D̽͗̎̑̓̆͏͎͙̦̦̤̬ ̵̱̌͂̈́̽F̣̆͆̓̓̀̌O͕͈̪̹͓̹̒̈́̊ͥ̓̇̚Rͪͤ̆̍̌̾̚ ̶͙̱͍̤̱͐̔T̃ͪ͢H̼͠È̠̲̮͊͆̈́͘ ͖̬̠̈̈́̓͒̃ͪ͛͠S̈͐̿̚͟A̟̳͓K̎̽́̈͗ͅE̞̳͒͟ ̷͉̗͎̲̂͆̇ͨÒ̖̫̟̬̦͋̓͢F̰̘͉̋͌͒̎̓̈͑ͅ ̙̪̿͆͟K̝͈̜͖͚̺ͪͯ̎́͛N̪̐̅̎ͤͣͣȮ̷̥̜̼̼͉̏̾͋ͫẄ̳̞̹ͨ̒̎͑̚L͔̬͕͖̣͕̿ͮ́͗̋̂̈ͅḚ̝̺̻͙͌̌̈́ͫͪ̒̀D͎͕͇͇͉̩̩̀̄̍͛͒G̮͖̘̻̏ͤ̚É̢̊̊͂̓̑̇ ͇ͮ̎ͪ͜Ơ̘͉ͨ̈ͦ̚F͕̯̪̋̓̌͌̓ ̶̲̗̪̓̍̂ͬͦW̡̔͂̑͌H͔̼̫̺͙ͬ̇̆ͧ̎ͫA͔̼͖̖ͦ̎͐ͬ̽̄̀T̞͂̆̏̈́ͤͫ ̩̭̳̖̠͜ͅE͉̰Ṫ̤̟̝̼E̖̫̙̮͛̀Ŕ̭͐̉̂̓́N͞A̵̔̆͂̚Ḻ͔̝͎͆͋͂ͣ̄͡L̠̞̻̪̬̪͋ͭ͐̌̎͞Y͙̤̠ͣ ͖̳̦͐ͥͧ̃͐ͬÊ̡̘͎̣̼̎̃X͎͚̲̥I͙͇̘̪̺͒̑Ṣ͈́Ț̹͎̲ͪͭ̉͊̀̏̚͝S̱̬͚̰͉̍̃ͧ̌ͦ̋͠,͇̰̥͕̳̱ ̫̱͕̦͍̘̤͋ͩͪ͗̿̾͛̕A̮̯̖̰̮̼̭͐ͪ̚͟N͎̩̄͟D̟ͨ̈́́͞ ̜̻̻̳̝̤͗Ń̘͓͕̣͇͚̳Ỏ͊̌̂͊̓ͬT͂͒ ͎͖͔̠̜͙̎̉̒̿̂͡ͅO͊ͮ̎͊ͬ͑̽͏̙͎̞ͅͅF̤͕̣̋̏̆̊̆̍ ̨̬͇͙̦̦̙̎ͧ̄ͨ̂̎W̍ͯ͊ͦ̑̃͘Ḫ͉̤͔̼̭́A̡̰͍̪̩̞͓̱͒T̫͔̝̳̰͔͒͊͐̈́ ̦̮̝̲̟̥̹C̢̱̖͍̬̣͙ͨ͋̄́ͭͅȮ̗̻͔̲̫ͦͪ̈̈́ͥ́M̸̠̘ͯ͒̑̃ͫ̍Ę͇͖̜ͫ̃̄ͦͪ͂Ș̻̆̈́͑̿͒ͅ ̬̹̳F͎͔͔ͬO̵̱̖̪͍̳R̨̘̥̪͎͎̓ ̪̞̻͚͚͖͗ͫ̐͜A̰̙̬͓ͭ̆̔͡ͅ ͍̘̩̤̱̒ͤ͊̍͑ͪͮ͟ͅM̻̩̰̖̳̱̄̍ͧ̔̈O̵̭̭͉̭͙ͪ̒̍͐̋̈M̬̘̲̟̫͚̒͐̂̕E̤̬̜̖ͩͪͯ̇̈́ͤ͗N̸̗͓̬͍̪̘̙ͪT̯͎͉͛̋ ̭̺̲̏I͏̖̟̳̠͓͈̹Ṇ͓̂̈́͊̒̚T̳ͥ̒ͭͣͅÔ̳̯̭͕͙͍͐̈́ͫͪ ̞̔ͫ̂̓ͬ̃͛Ẹ̘̲̗̬̮̖ͫ̊͒̐̃̿X͉̜̎̆͒̒̓̃ͯÏ̪̫̺͌͆ͣ̇S͍̤̝̙̤ͪ͌̎̅͗ͬTͬ͛ͭ̄̋͘Ẻ̼̟̊ͬ́̽̔̓N̪ͦ̓̅͗̑C̟̜̲̞̣̍̅ͪ̉̅͟Ḛ̖̍͗͗,̴̪̮̎͑͛ ̱̺̲̖̤ͧ̽ͦ̊̈́ͥ̄͞ͅA̸̫͍̪̙̔ͫ̚N̤͚͇̳̬̄D̹ͧ̂͂ ̹̹͔͓̿͌Ť̰͉̗͓̥̤̍H̨͇͖̺̃ͬͫȨ̞̼̤͙͔͓̾́͐͂̉N̹̜̼͈̬ ̖P͓̘̘͔̣̪̊͒̂̏ͅE̗̮̲̳̎͑͌́͐͠R̫̺̪͈̙̝͗͒͐ͬͪͮ͡I̡̐S͓͍̺̝̣H͠E̮̜͚̞͖̫ͧ̽͑͑ͦ̌S͖̼̝̬͇͋̔͟.̰̖͞ ̙̱͋ͫͨ͒̿S̭̱̣̹͍̣̭ͨͨͪ͋̈̚̕Â̝̤̦̮̱̫̬̄̅͂̊N̴̙̱͔̞̝ͭ͐ͨ̉̇ͯS̢̪̻̲͓͍̤̓̉͆̀̓̒.̛͍͇̯̤͙͎̍̅̆)̘̠̣̰̱͂̚ͅ

don’t spit that shit at me now, old man.

you find yourself in the v̨͢ó̴͡i̡d̛͘. it’s empty and there is no sensation other than your own consciousness. another entity exists along with you. apparently, they have enough fluidity to conjure forms in this orbit, as you find your consciousness in a familiar body. and there’s an all too familiar face grinning at you.

blue sans stands there in the nothingness, barefoot, hands in the pockets of his jacket. oh great. another you. not wasting time, you ask, “which one are ya from?”

“62b,” he answers.

62… b? the same previous timeline you came from? with (your name)? the probability of running into another self from such a close time-space proximity is almost unheard of. 

he chuckles lightly. ugh, his overall casualness annoys you. tense up and spit out, “well, ya sure look fuckin’ relaxed. where’d ya diverge from, huh?”

“your timeline is totally fucked at this point. but, you _can_ get them back.”

them… (your name)? what the fuck is he talking about. you’re angry, confused, and above all else, incredibly intrigued. “… how,” is all you say.

“well, actually they’re still here. it's their soul, you just gotta chhhhhhhh̸̖̜̜h҉̩̜̭͇͇͙h̘h̡͍ͅh̺͚̦̟̺͘͞h̼͉̥̤̩͇̤͢ͅh̴̫͚͞h̵̛҉̤̟̱͙̞̣̗h̶̬͔͍̬͕͟͜ḩ̵̖̰̦͇̣͓̠̘͖͕́̕͜h̴̵̬̲̰̘̘̻͇h̸̨̕͟҉̫̙̟͍͉̫͍̩͖̹̱͇̲͇ͅh̴̷̟̦̮̫͍̲̮͚̠̹͝h͏̶̡̛͎͇͈̥̠̥͎͎͈̳̟̮͉͖͇͝ͅh̵̦̝̭͍͙͇͈̫̰̜̣̘̰͙̞͕̼́̕͢͟ͅḩ̷̴̟̱̩͈̝͘͝”

the reality blue sans created is shattered. by a coldness that is so disgustingly familiar. hands take you, dive down your mouth. no. not again. please, just let me go this time. i’ve dealt with enough shit today.

(̹͙̠̲̤̒ͥ̏̋͝P̡̠̬͈̼͓̦̣ͤͧͣ̾ͯ͂Ò̱͈̘̜̥̫O͉̬͖̮̖̔͐̚Ṟ̟̟͎͓͉̈́ͣ,̪̲̼̤̤̭ ̟̻̼̘̜̺̚ͅM̡͈̮͎͇̤ͦ͗̒ͣ̚Ī͍ͫ̍ͣ̚S̸̪̺̙̺͓̟̓ͤͩͯ̀̈́ͅE̱̘͔̥͓͓̟̊̀͂̆̚Ṛ̦̜̠̻̍̈́̋̍ͪ̀̕ͅA̵̳͎̟̺͓͚ͤ̅ͥ͂̾̋̚B̫̤̫̠̳ͦ̐Ļ̬̼̼̞͇͇È̟̦͕̭ ͕̱̰͌͛͊̑Ť͚̟̗̺͚̘̟̍̊̅̾H̅ͦI͑̑̅̒̄̌̓N̝̯ͦ̽̄͑G҉̪͚̳̻̤.͎͖̘͕ͫͭ̐ͮ̇ͫ͆ ̼̏̄L̀ͭ̽̎҉E̪͕͕̪̩͐ͥ͒T͉͓̙̯̻̊̆ ̟͇̊͑ͪ͊ͫͮD̲̖̒̔ͮ̕ͅA҉͎̘͔̺̳͇͉Dͫ͛̍҉͓̪͖D͑͂͐̽ͨ̓͒Y̪̜͉̖͔͚̙ ͇̹͆ͤ̏̓̇Ṫ͉̼̖̺ͧͬ́Ā̪ͭ̐̅̐͛K̼͈͛̏͡ͅE̠̜͉̖͈ ̢̽̒ͥ̚Čͭ̃Ä͍R̓ͥ̓̋̀Ě̲̥͈̗͚ͬ͗͆̿ͮ ̢͍̘̭ͫ͛̿O͆̑F͙̳͙̲̓̇͐̂̐̽ͅͅ ̫̱̜͚ͤͤͣ͠Ÿ̳̠̫ͯ̽̄̏̚͞Oͥ͑U̷ͨ̾͑̓̓̿ͤ.̓̅̏̌͊̚)̤͗͌ͥ̀  
̄̔͆̕

something happened. you don’t know what. but. you came back. back into your bones. back to underfell. there’s a hum in your soul. can hear geneva call out to you. go to him.

rematerialize in your home, walk up to papyrus, and take a fidgety gene from his arms. no pomp or circumstance, your brother leaning back into the couch with a grin.

“I KNEW IT WASN’T GOING TO WORK,” he says.

gene starts to glow with red magic as you let him take one of your fingers in his mouth to suckle on. “could’ve told me that ‘fore i killed em’.”

“COME ON, SANS, YOU WANTED TO KILL THEM. HAVING AN EXCUSE JUST MADE IT EASIER, _RIGHT?_ ”

you don’t say anything.

paps doesn’t say anything either. he just stands up and saunters over to you. smelling like full-bodied cologne and bay leafs, he leans in and presses your head to his ribcage. can hear the gentle beat beat of his soul. he holds his breath, then says, “DOES THIS MEAN YOU’LL COME WITH ME?”

you don’t say anything. 

he goes on about breaking the barrier and conquering the surface, how much fun it will be, how much better you two are together. you aren’t really listening. you’re thinking about what you experienced in the void. need to go back to find that sans. but. gaster is there. he’s always there. can you risk it?

this is so fucking ridiculous. none of this would be happening if you hadn’t killed them. why did you, why are you like this? what was it for? what’s even the point of bringing them back?

the glowing veins in gene’s head die down to a dull, slow blinking. he’s falling asleep, sucking on your finger, tiny hands grasping at your phalanges.

“yea. sure, bro. count me in.”

  
**63b** \- The one where you’re together

“babe… babe, c’mon,” Sans grumbles next to you, “ya can’t fit.”

You’re in the front seat of your car, trying to compress your stomach enough to reach the pedals. Had to move the seat back to accommodate your pregnant girth and now you’re too fucking short to press the gas. It’s embarrassing and you feel helpless, so you stubbornly try to make it work. “Shut up,” you respond, “I can _totally_ …” Nope, you can’t. Fall back into your seat with a grunt. What are you supposed to do now?

“i can drive,” Sans offers.

“Have you ever driven a car before?”

“yes,” he lies, “so many times.” You know he’s lying, you can literally see it in his mind, why is he even bothering? He bursts out laughing when you throw a petulant look his way, continuing, “i’ve driven _so many cars_ , ya dun’ even know.”

Titter along with him, then admit defeat, switching seats. He readjusts a few things, the seat, mirrors, then inserts the key. With a turn of the ignition, the engine sputters and coughs. Another turn, a bit of gas, and she revvs to life.

He sits back and sighs, just letting the engine idle. Immediately, you know what’s wrong. He’s afraid. He guesses your apartment has already been cleaned out and sold by now. In the human world, you’re dead. Or at least missing. And you both know anyone who might’ve cared about you has probably stopped looking for you. Well, you know that. He has his doubts. 

“we’re gonna get caught, (your name).” 

He’s starting to panic, hands shaking around the steering wheel, eye sockets empty as he stares out the windshield. Slowly move a hand to his femur. 

“we’re gonna get caught and. an’ i’ll be lucky if _all_ they do iz ki-kiill me.”

“No,” you say, voice quivering with the shared anxiety, “that’s not happening. Why would we be put together like this just to—“ 

“ **COMEOFFIT(your name)** ,” Sans screams over you, “there ain’t no fuckin’ meanin’ ta ANY OF THIS. we got lucky. an’ that luck’s gonna run out.”

His sudden outburst startles you, as do the compiling ruminations in his mind; he’s just going in circles now. Swallow down the fear, grip his leg, and find the determination that’s been there for you your entire life. You will continue. You will persevere and you will survive. You have to.

“Listen to me, you skeleton-ass motherfucker,” you bellow through a choked voice, “I’m in charge now. We’re in my world and there’s a baby on the way. Being scared is okay. Giving up isn’t.” Swallow again, throat dry and tight with tension. “I’ve seen a lot of, uh, on-the-run movies, okay? And crime documentaries. And with your magic? And Gene, he’s a fucking wild card, who knows what he’ll be able to do. We’ll make it. So let’s just… drive.”

Sans is quiet for a while. His hand moves to the stick shift, popping it into reverse. He cracks a smile and says, “i love ya, (your name).”

  
**63a** \- The one where you killed him

This is. The most painful piss you’ve ever experienced. Sitting in an old, breezy outhouse, your genitals burning as urine squirts out for the first time in six months. Six fucking months!! That’s how long you were in the Underground! Ridiculous.

“Do you need any help?” the woman who was wearing red, named Carolyn, asks from the other side of the door.

“Nooo,” you whine back. Trickle trickle, that’s the last of it. Take some tissue paper to wipe yourself as gently as you possibly can. Stand up and inspect your crotch a bit; what a mess. you tore during birth, so there’s a bit of blood. you’re swollen, discolored, leaking a bit of fluid. Ugh, whatever, pull your yoga pants back up, sanitize your hands, and step outside.

Carolyn is there with your baby, swaddled in Sans’ jacket, sleeping. Take him from her immediately; she had to convince you to let him go to relieve yourself. 

GG fidgets a little, but remains asleep. You decided to name your son Gaster, a name that kept popping up in Sans’ head when you bonded with him. That was the name of his father in the previous timeline. It just… felt right. But Gaster is a bit of a mouthful, so you started saying GG. He seemed to like it.

You told the three women everything. Nicki and Carolyn had a lot of questions. Emma, the one who ran away upon seeing your baby, said nothing, and tried to avoid all interaction with you. Not that you could blame her.

“You _have_ to go to the hospital,” Carolyn insists as you two start your walk back to camp. 

Like fuck you’re going to go to a hospital. They’ll take GG away. They’ll… they’ll do _something_. You don’t trust anyone anymore. You lie and say, “I know. I don’t want to be a burden on you guys anymore. My car is parked a few miles that way,” you gesture vaguely in that direction, “I can get myself there.”

“ **No** ,” Carolyn says with sudden firmness, “I, uh, **we** aren’t going to abandon you. You’ve been through so much, let us help—“ Her hand on your shoulder makes you completely lose it. You crumble into her, sobbing loudly, nestling the baby between you both, saying that skeletons name over and over again. You were so alone before you fell into the Underground. You were so alone once Sans was gone. You can’t, you just can’t anymore.

After a few minutes, you lean away and apologize. That was the fourth breakdown you’ve had today. Maybe that’s reasonable considering all that’s happened. Carolyn is patient and laughs when she sees GG yawn. She seems to genuinely care about him. Why, you don’t know.

Your uterus contracts, blood spilling and staining the pants they gave you. You apologize, but Carolyn assures you that they were inexpensive. And that you need to go to the hospital.

… Okay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long pause. it really takes the right mindset to write this fic.

****

**63b** \- The one where you’re together

Sans drives like a goddamn old woman.

Hunched as close to the steering wheel as possible, he putters down the highway at a fucking snails pace, just under the minimum speed limit. He looks so funny, the hood of his jacket up, extremely focused face scrunched, only visible because of how bright his eyes are blazing. You would giggle at him if his driving ‘style’ wasn’t so irritating.

“Sans. **Sans** , I’m gonna give birth before we get to the city,” you say as you rub your belly in response to Gene kicking.

“shuddup,” he grumbles back, “this is hard, ok? this is.. _**nnnng.**_ ” He won’t say it, but he’s scared, anxious— constantly reminding himself that he’s driving his family in a two ton mass of metal, the possibility of anything jumping out, of something going wrong, fuck **fuck.**

You know exactly what kind of distraction he needs. Pull the lever to put flatten out your seat a bit more, leaning back with a content sigh. Spread your legs a bit, propping one knee on the door, and just let your palms stroke across the soft texture of your yoga pants. Rub in small circles, feeling a few tingles in your lap the closer you get to your junction.

Since you’re completely bonded, he can feel what you’re doing and can watch the arousal bud in your brain. “(your name),” he mutters in his stern, man-in-charge tone, “yer distractin’ me.”

“I’m sorry, _Daddy_ ,” you almost moan back at him, moving one hand to clench a swollen tit, “I can’t help it, my body is so sensitive~.”

Sans snarls quietly, eyes stealing a glance, black pupils dilating. “dun’ think i’ll let ya get away with bein’ a naughty lil human just cuz i’m.” He pauses to put all his attention on the car that’s passing him. The other driver flips him off and Sans has the sick idea to launch a blaster at the asshole. He continues, “just cuz i’m busy. i’ll pull this damn car over ta punish ya, sugartits.”

You like this side of him; it makes you want to push a few buttons. Lightly cup your genitals, barely touching, gliding up and down. “Ooh, what’s my _scary_ skeleton gonna do to me?”

“i’ll shove my dick up yer ass,” he smirks wickedly as he says it, the fantasy of exactly that now clouding his mind. “spit ain’t tha best lube. it’ll hurt.”

“It’ll be so _tight_ ,” you add, pushing into your pants a bit harder, between pink lips, “I’ll whimper and beg for you to stop, or at least slow down. But you won’t, will you?”

“course not. i _wanna_ see ya **cry** ,” he rasps out the last word and peels one hand off the steering wheel to grasp your other breast, squeezing until that white elixir leaks from your nipple.

“Daddy,” you whine. 

Oops. You’re going to fuck again. You both feel helpless at the inevitability of it, but at the same time, are too horny to give a shit. He flips the right signal on the car as he slows down, beginning to slip into the shoulder. He turns onto a dirt road and drives until finding a suitable spot. He takes off his seatbelt and presses the button to release yours. Then he’s upon you.

“naughty, _naughty_ human,” he rumbles into your neck, leaning over the space between seats, “i’m just tryna do what ya want. get ta tha city safely.”

Reach across the gap to shove your hand between his legs, already finding a hot, red erection. “I know,” you exhale, “but you were so stressed out, I had to do something.” Whimper when teeth kiss your jugular— expect a bite, but it doesn’t come. He just rakes the sharp tips across your skin, drawing harsh lines of irritated pink.

“ya could’ve done anything, and ya decided ta turn me on.” Sans chuckles, “yea, yer bad. ya need punishment.”

Just as he’s lifting a leg to straddle you, Gene kicks hard enough to make you grunt. You both pause. Look at each other. And sigh. The baby’s awake; sex postponed. Instead, Sans slouches down to push the side of his head against your stomach. He hums happily and you close your eyes, listening to your son talk to his father, with no words, just feelings and vague images. The baby is excited to see him.

[♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1wdJpYjB5Q)

The tender moment is shattered as red and blue lights of a police siren blare in your rearview window.

 

 

 

****

**63a** \- The one where you killed him

It turned out to be a good thing, listening to Carolyn. You were developing an infection from the deep tear in your perineum. You wouldn’t have done GG any good being dead.

Talking to everyone was. **hard.** They had so many questions and you were so tired. You just wanted to be with your baby and recover. They tried to take him away from you, emphasis on tried. Any time you left GG’s sight, he literally teleported back into your arms, clinging to you. So they couldn’t even take him out of the room. He seemed to understand intensions of individuals rather than the people themselves. And he remained swaddled with Carolyn while you went to piss or walked around the hospital. But no one else.

She’s stayed with you for most of the time. In-between jobs and single, she had a lot of free time, she mentioned offhandedly. It felt weird, but comforting. You didn’t have many friends before you… fell. And you weren’t in contact with your family anymore. So no one seemed to care when you came back from the dead. 

But Carolyn did. For some reason. The dark skinned, pony-tail-wearing woman almost started crying when you asked why she gave a shit about you. She said, “you two need someone… and I can be that someone for you. Please, just let me do this, okay?”

After telling authorities about your car, you had your wallet and cellphone back. Your apartment and belongings were sold, but your bank accounts were still open. Thank fuck for that. You were ready to leave this hospital and start a new life with GG. Somewhere quiet.

“Ms. (last name),” your kind, dough-faced doctor started, “you aren’t allowed to just _leave._ You’re the first human to have interacted with the monsters and survived in hundreds of years. Your son,” he reaches to touch GG’s head, but the baby morphs his body through your arm to avoid it. Geez, little drama queen. “Ah, uh, he’s an evolutionary wonder! And, well, there’s no easy way to say this… the government has decided to send you away. F-for testing, to the world center of genomic research: Geneva, Switzerland.”

 

 

 

****

**63c** \- The one where he killed you

the baby is asleep. without him, it feels like none of it ever happened. it’s just you and your bro. you can almost let yourself forget. haha, almost. you fucking killed them, sans. for no reason. other than that you wanted to. you could say you did it because of your job as the judge. or to purge the timeline. but really, you wanted to. to watch the life drain from their pretty eyes. cuz you’re just that fucked up.

literally all your fault, all of itIT’SOVER **THEY’RE DEAD YOU STUPID FUCK!!!!!!!!!**

a hand on your shoulder— you tense up, jolt back on the couch, left eye igniting. it’s papyrus. you still panic. what, wwhhwhat is he gonna do, what did you do wrong now.

“SANS,” he breathes, voice froggy from sleep, “YOU’RE HAVING A PANIC ATTACK.” 

silence. force yourself to chuckle and say, “n-nah, i’m ok. suh-s-sorry, just gimme a—“

“NO,” he announces, “YOU’RE GOING TO LIE DOWN. AND RELAX FOR A FEW MINUTES.” then long phalanges are circling your ankles, pulling until your stretched across the couch. he’s still in his pjs. he looks handsome.

“gene,” you say as you turn your head to watch your baby sleep, bundled up on the floor in front of the tv.

“HE’LL BE _FINE_. WE WON’T WAKE HIM UP.” he sits down and lets your legs drape across his lap. gentle clunk of bones meeting as both hands grip your tibias. haha, is. is he really doing this? _now?_ you can’t even get one night off??

but. he never goes too far up your femurs. just traces the details of your scarred legs and feet, breathing slowly and deeply. you ask him what he’s doing, and he just shooshes you. his head nestles under your ribcage. the thud of his soul and rumbling of his exhales lull you to sleep.

nothing existed for a while. and it was **amazing.** but like always, you had a dream.

you see your previous self standing in asgore’s throne room. everything is void of color. the walls are dripping black oil. it smells like burning rubber. blue sans turns to you, his pupils a glitched sequence of blue and white code. 

“Sans, you’re such an asshole,” he says in (your name)’s voice, “you’re so stupid. I hate you.”

“sw… sweetheart?” you say back.

take a step forward. water drains from the flowers, wilting into dust under your feet. 

“It didn’t have to be like this,” his voice echoes in the boom of a rolling thunder clap.

there’s something between your legs and you have the uncontrollable urge to thrust into it. reach down, feeling human hair. (your name) has their face in your crotch, looking like they did on that first day in the snow. they giggle and take your pubis in their mouth.

“I ’ m s t i l l a l i v e ,” they whisper, eyes exploding with wingdings, the gore turning into oil to splatter you. everything is melting, but your erection won’t go away. you’re disgusted with yourself and everything.

blue sans remains corporeal in the abstract mess of black. “you can get them back,” he says, pixelated pupils suddenly stopping, reverting to normal. “well, a̜̝̥̺̭͙̥͝c̷̨̹͝t̥̻͍̝u҉̸̗ͅa͇͉̼͓͜l̫̰̩̱͎̗̪̦̦l҉͍̫̲͠y̡̺̩

no. he’s gone too.

specks of white, red and blue spark in the void. you’re in outer space, surrounded by nothing but vast emptiness and light from objects millions of light years away.

you float there. it’s cold. but it doesn’t feel like you’re going to die anytime soon. ugh. this is why you never let yourself sleep anymore.

static blares on the tv in your house. the volume blasted, it wakes everyone up— paps falls off the couch and almost lands on gene. the baby is screaming, startled by the sound and sudden uncle in his face. you stare at the static on the screen.

“… (your name)?” you call out.

.

..

…

but no one answered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long pause. thank you for continuing to read Like Spinning Plates.

  
**63c -** The one where he killed you

you don’t really feel like player in the game anymore. you feel like a pawn, being dragged around by much stronger players, only useful because of the treasure you carry. gene.

alphys and asgore tried to take him away from you. didn’t work. no matter what they did, he always wound up back in your arms. so young, but so strong. and dangerous. a wrong sneeze might manifest a blaster from him. it does no damage to you, but asgore got a face full of red magic when he snatched the tiny infant from your hands. didn’t kill him, but it did leave him bald. heh heh.

gene seemed to tolerate papyrus. he always tried to get away from him when they were together, but he never put too much effort into it. the baby’s attitude seemed linked to your bro’s treatment of you sometimes. papyrus hitting you made him scream and tear up the place. but how could a baby know so much already? probably just a coincidence.

you let your bro watch him as you went to work. back at the lab. sigh, feels almost nostalgic coming back here. a weird kind of nostalgia, like going back to a hospital you visited as a child. but you had a new assignment. normally, you’d dismiss the king and any bullshit he tried to convince you to do. but this job was personal. and you weren’t gonna let anyone else interfere with such delicate work.

(your name) is suspended in the air, their body so full of tubes, wires, and needles that they all create a kind of support system, above the determination machine. they’re alive, but with no soul, determination pumping through their veins. alphys recovered the body immediately and put them back together.

when the time is right, you’ll get their soul back. heh. pretty fucked up thing to do, isn’t it? but you don’t care anymore. blue sans says you can bring them back. and that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.

  
**63a -** The one where you killed him

You’re on a plane, crossing the Atlantic Ocean, to Switzerland. The ride has been uneventful so far. Smooth, quiet, and empty. The government is flying you in a private jet so no one can see GG. Sounds glamorous; it’s not. The plane is barebones, no television screens in the seats, minimal service from the flight attendants.

Carolyn couldn’t come with, even though she wanted to. A classified situation, she wasn’t family. You didn’t want her to throw everything aside for you anyway. She gave you her phone number and kissed you before you left. 

Everyone else you met was afraid of you and GG. They’d stare, whisper, then pretend like they weren’t doing any of it. Anytime you felt too isolated, you’d look at your son, bundled up in his fathers winter jacket, red magic glowing behind his closed eyes. And that helped. 

Cradling your infant and the jar that contains Sans’ dust, you shed a few tears before sleep takes you. And then you had a dream.

The smell of ginger. The air is thick with it. It tickles and burns at your sinuses. Sitting at a table, a familiar one. The wooden table in Sans and Papyrus’ home. Run your hands along the surface, a splinter catching you and sinking into your palm. 

“CAREFUL,” Papyrus calls from the kitchen, “SANS JUST BUILT THAT.”

He just built it? This table has been here for forever, hasn’t it? You yank the splinter out with your teeth, a bit of blood trickling. But it’s black, thick, oozing out your wound like oil. You call out to Papyrus for help and he scolds you for interrupting his cooking lesson. 

The surroundings shift, letters of code breaking down until you’re sitting in a white void. Blue Sans is there, hands in his pockets.

“who will save you now?” he asks.

You’re so happy to see him. He looks so sad. You run to him, but the floor eats your legs like dense snow.

“it’s not too late,” Sans’ voice echoes around you, “you can get him back.”

You scream, thrash, and cry as the floor slowly devours you, unable to get your footing, falling, falling. “SAAAAAAAAA̸̭̲͚̰̝͓A̲͙̼̯̮̞͈͢ͅṈ̟̦̼̭̲̕N̹͔̱͈̦̖͜N͘͏̳N̤̟̼͓̖͢͝͞ͅN̷͔̪͉͎̩̠̼͘ͅS̸̸̥̠̰͇̦̺̩S̸̤̖͔̬̭̻̬̻S͕͕̱̩͔̟̼”

W̠̲̖̻̱̞͔̍̏́̀H̡̼̮̜̰̭̫ͧͫ̽̓͛ͯͧ̾̅O̾͊̉̀͌͊͏͉̠̙͙̠̦̰͞ ͎̝̳̮͇͋̊̾ͣ̓ͨ̂͝͡W̮̥̹̹̮̠̝̬̿̉̓͋̍̚ͅĮ̨͓̪̼͕͙̗̯͈̮̍̐̚͜L̢̬̹̫̪̬̖̫̪̦̂ͫ͂ͬ̑ͪ̎L̠̺̪̣͓̫͑ͮ́ ̡̯̣̻͗̔͐̾ͧ͛͆͌́́S̙̱͎͚̦͖̉̏͗ͥẨ̷̭̰͉̜̞͕̳͙ͪ͊̒̍͋̀V̸̙̬͓̗̅͑̅̕E̴̷̯̜̒̐̊̍̌͒̈̐̎ ̞͍̠͖͔ͩ̄ͦ̍̽ͅY͂͒̇͆̈҉҉̬͓̦̮̥̖̬̜O̦̟̩̞̳͋͆͌̓̏̅̚Û̾̓ͧͬ̐̍͒͏̳ ̶̸̘̙̙̱͙͙̼̒͊̈́͐ͩǸ̸̩͎͇̱̦̆͑̌̈́ͅO̶͎̪̱ͧ́͘Ẃ̱̲̲̯̲̝͇̱̈́̀̄͢

The unfamiliar, glitched, booming voice in your dream jolts you awake. GG is crying, tiny arms waving around and grasping at nothing. You’re sweaty, your stomach is turning. You just saw something. Something real and very dangerous. Or maybe. Someone.

  
**63b -** The one where you’re together

“License and registration,” the cop says through the tiny crack Sans allowed in the window. 

You fumble around in your belongings, looking for your information, since Sans obviously won’t have anything. With shaky hands, you slide your driver’s license and your insurance card through the crack in the window.

“Not yours,” the man says, but he still takes the insurance card from your hand, “I need the driver’s.”

Sans slowly reaches into the pocket of his shorts, bringing out a Batman wallet that looks like it’s meant for children, a few mustard packets falling out along with it. He takes out a fucking library card with his name and address on it and hands it to the officer.

“What the hell is this,” he says, “do you not have a driver’s license?”

“nope,” Sans replies with a surprising amount of calmness, “the lady here was drivin’, but she started gettin’ cramps. so we switched and pulled over. worried the baby might be comin.’ “

The policeman sighs, reaching up to scratch at his gray mustache, “alright, well, this is private property. The owner wants you gone.” He casually looks at the cards he was handed before returning them through the window. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time. But I can’t let you drive without a license. Think you can drive, ma’am? If not, I’ll drive you both into town.”

Oh god, no no, not in the back of a cop car. In his mind, Sans is COMPLETELY losing his shit, wanting to kill the cop and surrender himself in the same thought. You put your hand atop his, stroking the leather of his glove.

“It’s okay!” you perk up, voice high and chipper, “the contractions have stopped. False alarm, I can drive.”

It’s quiet for a minute. The cop is walking back to his patrol car. Sans, you tell him through your mind, you have to get out so we can switch places. Eventually, he does so. He looks like a hunched miscreant, shuffling in front of the car, dragging his feet through the rocks in the dirt road. You sit in the driver’s seat, he’s in the passenger seat. Both of you buckle up, but cop car drives away ahead of you.

Sans explodes, “jesusfuckingchristthatwascloseialmostdiedholyshitbabe **aaaahfuck!** ”

You allow yourself a giggle, but have to pause. When you feel. Oh.

“what,” Sans asks nervously, wondering why you haven’t started driving yet.

“The baby is coming.”


End file.
